Blossom Street Bundle

Lillie shook her head. “She doesn’t know yet. No one does. I’d just driven it off the showroom floor when I called you.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the one who inspired the idea. So it’s only fitting that you be the first one to ride in it.”

Anne Marie remembered the “eat something,” “do something” conversation, but she never would’ve guessed she’d end up riding in a brand-new BMW because of it.

“It’s the first time in my life that I’ve purchased my own car. I negotiated the deal myself,” Lillie announced proudly. “And I had all my facts straight before I even walked inside. Those salesmen take one look at me and see dollar signs. I needed to prove to them—and to myself—that I’m no pushover.”

“I’m sure you did—and then some.”

Lillie nodded. “I got on the Internet and found a Web site that showed the invoice price, and then broke out the dealer’s typical overheads and advertising costs.”

Anne Marie was more impressed by the minute. “You really did your research.”

“My dear, you can find out just about anything on the Internet.” She raised her eyebrows. “I also discovered that the dealer cost includes a holdback for profit.” Lillie smiled roguishly as she continued her story. “The salesman was a charming fellow, I will say that. He expected to walk away with a substantial commission check, but I quickly disavowed him of that notion.”

Anne Marie stared at her, astonished. “How did you do it?”

“We started negotiating and I had him at the point of accepting my offer when I remembered that dealers sometimes get incentives and rebates on cars sold.”

“You mentioned that, too?”

“Darn right I did and he agreed to my terms.”

“Lillie, congratulations.” Anne Marie had no idea the older woman had such a head for business. As far as she was aware, Lillie hadn’t worked a day in her life, or at least not outside the home. In many ways Barbie was a younger version of her mother. Both women had married young, and each had chosen a husband ten or so years her senior. That was something Anne Marie had in common with them; the fact that they were both mothers was not. They’d promptly delivered the requisite child, in Barbie’s case, twin sons. If Anne Marie recalled correctly, the Foster boys, Eric and Kurt, were enrolled in separate East Coast schools—very elite ones, naturally.

“It feels so good to drive a vehicle I negotiated for myself,” Lillie said. “And this came about because of you.”

“Really, I just made an off hand comment.”

“It’s more than purchasing my own car,” she said, as though Anne Marie hadn’t spoken, “it was managing everything myself instead of handing the task over to someone else. I’ve always felt I could be a good businesswoman if I’d been given the opportunity.” She rubbed her hand over the arc of the steering wheel. “No one seemed to consider me capable of running my own affairs. Ironically, the person I needed to convince most was me. Thanks to you, I did.”

Anne Marie felt a bit uncomfortable; Lillie was giving her far more credit than she deserved.

“Come on,” Lillie said. “Get in.”

Swinging open the passenger door, Anne Marie climbed into the convertible and fastened her seat belt.

Lillie gripped the steering wheel tightly, throwing back her head. “I have to tell you, I’m really getting into this Twenty Wishes thing.”

“I am, too,” Anne Marie said. “When you phoned I was in the middle of making a scrapbook, a page for each wish. I’m going to cut out magazine pictures to visualize them and to document the various steps.”

Lillie turned to smile at her. “What a great idea.”

The praise encouraged her andAnne Marie quickly went on to describe the craft-store supplies she’d purchased. “I don’t have much of a list as yet, but I’m working on it. How about you?”

Lillie was silent for a moment. “I’ve decided I want to fall in love.” She spoke with a determination Anne Marie had never heard from her.

“Barbie said the same thing at our Valentine’s party,” Anne Marie pointed out.

“I know.”

Anne Marie waited.

“I’ve had plenty of men ask me out,” Lillie told her. “I don’t mean to sound egotistical, but I’m not interested in most of them.”

Anne Marie nodded, not surprised that “plenty of men” would find Lillie attractive.

“I’ve learned a thing or two in the last sixty-odd years,” Lillie was saying, “and I’m not as impressed with riches or connections as I once was. When I fall in love, I want it to be with a man of integrity. Someone who’s decent and kind and—” She paused as though searching for the right word. “Honorable. I want to fall in love with an honorable man.” She seemed embarrassed at having spoken her wish aloud, and leaned forward to start the engine. “As you might’ve guessed, my marriage—unlike my daughter’s—wasn’t a particularly good one. I don’t want to repeat the mistakes I made when I was younger.” The car roared to life, then purred with the sound of a flawlessly tuned engine.

Checking behind her, Lillie backed out of the parking space on Blossom Street. From there they headed toward the freeway on-ramp. Lillie proposed a drive through the Kent Valley and along the Green River, and Anne Marie agreed.

Closing her eyes, Anne Marie let the cold February wind sweep past her. Lillie turned on the radio just as the DJ announced a hit from the late 1960s. Soon she was crooning along to The Lovin’ Spoonful’s “Did You Ever Have To Make Up Your Mind.” Anne Marie remembered her mother singing that song as a girl. Perhaps it was unusual to find herself good friends with a woman who was her mother’s contemporary. Sadly, although Anne Marie was an only child, she and her mother weren’t close. Her parents had divorced when she was in sixth grade, and the bitterness, especially on her mother’s part, had lingered through the years. It didn’t help that Anne Marie resembled her father. She’d had little contact with him after the divorce, and he died in a boating accident on Lake Washington when she was twenty-five. Her mother had never remarried.

Because they had such an uneasy relationship, Anne Marie avoided frequent visits home. She made a point of calling her mother at least once a month. Even then, it seemed they didn’t have much to discuss. Sad as it was to admit, Anne Marie had more in common with Lillie than she did with her own mother.

As Lillie’s voice grew louder, Anne Marie stayed quiet, afraid that if she attempted to sing she’d embarrass herself. After about twenty minutes, Lillie exited the freeway and drove toward the road that ran beside the banks of the Green River.

This was about as perfect a moment as Anne Marie could remember since Robert’s death. They had the road to themselves. The sun was on her face and the wind tossed her hair in every direction and she couldn’t have cared less.

Lillie, however, had wrapped a silk scarf over her elegantly arranged hair, which held it neatly in place.

Darting around the twisting country roads, Lillie revealed her skill as a driver. Then, in the middle of a sharp turn, she let out a small cry of alarm.

“What’s wrong?” Anne Marie was instantly on edge. She grasped the passenger door as Lillie struggled to control the vehicle.

“The steering wheel,” she gasped. She pulled the car over to the side of the road and cut the engine. She looked wide-eyed at Anne Marie. “There’s something wrong with the steering.”

“This is a brand-new car!”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Lillie said through clenched teeth. She opened the car door and got out, then reached behind the seat for her purse. Taking out her cell phone, she exhaled slowly. “Fortunately I have the dealership’s number in my Calls Received.” She wrapped one arm around her waist while she waited for someone to answer.

“Hello,” she said, speaking without even a hint of irritation in her voice. “This is Lillie Higgins. I was in the dealership earlier this afternoon. Could I speak with Darryl Pierpont, please? He’s the salesman who sold me this vehicle.” She waited, and it seemed the salesman was unavailable because Lillie asked to speak with the manager, who was apparently out of the office, as well. Lillie then said, “All right, answer me this. Has the dealership deposited the check I wrote?” She turned to Anne Marie, eyes fierce. “I suggest you don’t, as I’m about to put a stop payment order on it.”

That quickly got her the attention she sought. After explaining what had happened and listening for a moment, then describing her location, Lillie closed the cell.

“The dealership’s sending a tow truck for the car. The service manager is bringing me a replacement vehicle until they can determine what’s wrong with mine.”

“As they should.”

“Until then we have to sit here and wait.”

They climbed back into the car and chatted for half an hour or so until another BMW arrived, followed by a tow truck. A Hispanic man stepped out of the car. “Ms. Higgins?” he asked with a slight Mexican accent, looking at Lillie.

“Yes.”

“I’m Hector Silva, manager of the service department. I would like to personally apologize for this inconvenience.”